The Hunters
by Cole Elocin
Summary: After a worldwide Infection, Labyrinth, a girl who was dead, had her blood infected by Rio and became the indestructible Hunter - a vampire-like creature who fed on pure human blood.


The Hunters

_**THE HUNTERS**_

Preface

I was standing in front of my grave. Fingers running through the smooth stone which had my name carved on it, and the date which my life ended, as if I was soothing my pain. But there was no pain, even though I had gone through all these. In fact, I could not feel anything. My heart was hollow, empty. Of course, it stopped beating, and my blood stopped running under my skin. What should one feel, when she was standing in front of her grave? I did not know. But I wished I did. I felt nothing but the coldness and the wet on my stone. Uh, it's spring. I used to hate spring. But it no longer mattered. Dead people did not have time sense or time limit. Our time was up, anyway. How ironic.

I turned around. They were all dressed in black, standing in a row, very still. The priest was standing in front of my coffin and giving prayer. When he was done, people took turn to step forward and throw white roses on my coffin. How weird it was. When they thought I was resting inside and hoped that I would find my way to heaven, I was still here, watching. Silent mourn. I could recognize a few faces. But some of them were brand new; I had never met them before. Perhaps I had, just that I couldn't relate to their names. Mom was sobbing. Sharon. I was sorry. I did not keep my promise. Someone patted her shoulder, and I realized that it was him.

Ian.

I walked toward them. I could not care no more, even if my sudden appearance would scare them. They would probably scream, run, and never come back. But I did not care. I wanted to touch his face, to call his name. I wanted so much that I did not care if it was reasonable or not, in my condition. I hadn't say goodbye. I hadn't told him that I loved him. I hadn't held on and waited to hear him saying he loved me too.

That's when my afterlife twisted again. I stood in front of him, touched his tanned skin, and looked into his brown eyes. But there was no reflection.

He did not call my name.

He did not say anything.

He did not move.

I used my hands, my pale hands, to cover my mouth. I thought I was going to cry out and fall. I took a step back. How absurd it was to think I might have a second chance, to have forgotten the truth that I no longer belonged here. This was not my place anymore. He was no longer mine.

I sobbed, and so did he. The tears ran down his face, like raindrops on a statue. We were just a few steps close, yet a thousand miles apart. I wanted to catch the teardrops, to wipe away his sorrow, to tell him that I was here and it was fine, it would be fine.

I sighed.

We gazed at my grave. The reality was as firm as the stone.

"Olive," we said, together.

The last memory was darkness, imprisonment, and fear.

I couldn't remember how I died. Without a body, a soul could only hold scattered memories, which lingered around, like pieces. But there was a wound, burning like a blue flame inside. I pressed it; my hands were all in blood. Perhaps I died in pain. And now, I lived again, in pain.

I tried to recall more, but I couldn't. I felt sick. If I were still alive, I would have thrown up. But not now, not when I was an invisible and hollow soul.

"Make your choice," He said, as I stood in front of my house, my dead, empty house.

"No homeless souls can carry their memories and thoughts as dead people. Either step in, erase your past and refresh, or step back and be a wanderer." His voice was so firm, so ruthless, as if it had already determined my fate without me knowing it. I knew I had to make my choice, to live, or die.

I moved. Perhaps it was my own illusion, but I thought I heard him saying,

"Welcome to life."

Chapter 1

After the Infection that had washed away so many lives, human beings were classified into two categories according to their blood type, the Pure and the Infected, in other words, the prey and the hunter. The Pure had become one of the endangered species on Earth. The reason was sharp and clear – the Infected relied on their clean blood so as to maintain their own strength. The Infected were no zombies, no vampires, but rather, they were much stronger than the two. They had self-consciousness and attained self-control, but on the other hand, they could be animalistic, violent, and deadly dangerous when they're hungry. This could explain why there was an execution of the Infected once the Pure had restored everything that they had lost. According to the myth, the few Infected who survived in the execution stayed and lived among the Pure in disguise for their most horrifying identity.

Sadly, the myth was true.

Rio told me that we were the new Gods on Earth who conquered the weak. The only imperfect part of us was our mortality. Time, was our greatest enemy that we could never defeat. Although we were indestructible, with a little drop of the Venom created by the Pure in our blood, it could bring our lives to an answerable conclusion.

"Here, have a drink." Rio handed me a tumbler with my favorite type-O Pure blood. My throat was burning like a wild fire in rage with thirst and hunger since the last time he fed me. I could feel that my self-control was slowly fading away as my desire for blood grew stronger and stronger until I could no longer suppress it. I quickly drank the blood and licked the drips on my lips.

"So, have we decided on my first hunt?" I asked eagerly. Rio had always prohibited me from hunting the Pure. He said I was too young (in terms of my experience as an Infected, of course), not sensitive, fast, and strong enough to track my prey, catch them, and tear them apart. But my patience was going beyond my limit, I was sure as hell. I longed for more simulative "hunting games" instead of staying at home and waiting for him while he went on hunting.

"Labyrinth, we have discussed this issue for a thousand times. You know the answer."

"Come on! You can't lock me up here and go on hunting by yourself! I thought you said you changed me because you wanted a company. Sooner or later you'll have to show me how to hunt. I can't rely on you forever; we know it pretty well, don't we?" I wasn't going to give up. I knew what I wanted.

"Aha. So you want to live on yourself from now on?"

"No… I mean… Rio, you know what I mean. I'm not going to leave you. You are my father." Of course Rio wasn't my biological father. But he was the one who turned me into a Hunter. In some sense, he was my master. He used to have a daughter who died before the Infection. In spite of my curiosity, he never told me how he lost her, and so we had no more talk on that, as if it was a taboo that could not be recalled. And then he found me, when he needed a companion as dangerous as him the most, so he turned me. I never asked him how he did it, or who I was before he turned me. Somehow I believed there had to be a reason for me to be willing to give up my earthly life as a human. No matter what it was, it should not be awakened.

Instead of answering me, he stood up and gently placed his tumbler on the table. Walking toward the door with his back facing me, he sighed.

"Follow me."

Chapter 3

We walked along the path that led us to the forest, as casual as ordinary hikers heading to their campsite. Dawn lightened the obscure forest. It then broke into beams that shone on Rio's silvery hair and pale skin. I was several steps behind him, smelling the morning air; the two of us were hidden under the shady shelter of the trees and parasites that crept around. The place was too quiet, too still.

"First of all, try on animals as an exercise," Rio said, "stay there and smell. Feel the movement of your prey. Listen carefully. Focus on nothing except your target. Feel its steps, its tremble. Watch out." And he was gone. He was running real fast in the woods, as if his feet weren't touching the ground. The visible wind disrupted the peace of the dead place. Then suddenly, he was back, with a fainted doe, blood spilling over his hands.

"When you've grasped its location, wait for the chance to attack. Use your hands as locks, your teeth as knives. Tear its meat, drain its blood. Now, it's your turn."

I stood tall and still. I closed my eyes and let my guard down. Voices, thousand kinds of voices whispered to my ears; the bugs, the wind, the leaves, the water… I was anxious, annoyed, irritated. I blocked up the unwanted details and focused. Blood, the smell of blood recalled the desirable taste of it. I heard heartbeats and breathe. That's it, my first meal. I moved my legs and speeded up. I could feel the strength of Hunters that was natural and manipulative in our nature, and my assignment, was to fully utilize it. The surroundings became vague and blurry that, the longer I concentrated on them, the dizzier I felt. I could picture myself as a bullet firing at the poor creature that waited for death. Here I came; ready to end its life with one bite at its throat.

5


End file.
